Bullshit. Far too much of this hour was spent with Morris screwing up on the job and having people figure out that he’s resumed drinking. It’s not clear whether he’s actually missing stuff or not, but Nadia’s nose (not a crazy big nose here or anything, she’s of Mexican descent and playing an Arab, not sure what the nose-norm is, but her nose is fine by me)
is sniffing out a problem here. Chloe defends Morris, and Buchanan keeps him on the job due to an indignant tirade by Morris after he shows up late to a briefing, but Nadia still thinks he’s screwing up. Morris gets confronted in the shitcan by Chloe and swears he’s only had a couple of beers (this seems an odd defense to a charge of drinking at work), and promptly dumps out the last couple of shots from the 375 he bought earlier.

The whole Morris storyline is bullshit. First of all, it’s out of whack with the overriding themes of 24. 24's big thing is “working for CTU will dick up your personal life”. Erin Driscoll couldn’t pay attention to her daughter, so she killed herself. Almeida was a frickin’ disaster. Jack had to fake his death and became a heroin addict, not conducive to stable personal relationships, so I hear. But this whole thing about Morris drinking a lot doesn’t cut it. Morris has always been a drunk, it’s not some terrorism-related bender. On the upside, it’s finally an accurate stereotype, especially if he’s Australian. Props to you, Fox, you insensitive bastards. As Mitch Hedberg said, alcoholism is a disease, but it’s the only disease you can get yelled at for having.

Back at Palmer’s crib, the milquetoast conspiracy takes action. Chad Lowe talks big game to Lennox and works the hitman, kind of an Ethan Rom type, into the bunker, which apparently has shit security. Guy probably could have got in with a big thing of balloons. Anyway, Rom’s main job appears to be to demean Lennox and to fashion a bomb out of a mixture of Russian dressing and Frank’s Red Hot (a flavor explosion?) and hand it off to Chad for the detonation. This is just dumb. Rom must be mixing up Chad with his actually capable and murderous brother Rob, who totally 5-iron killed a chick in “Bad Influence” with a quasi-robotic indifference, among other offenses. All Chad has ever accomplished is getting dumped by a chick who got an Oscar for playing a dude or something. Anyway, I’m wrong, Chad quibbles but eventually sacks up and pulls the trigger, and the condiment bomb goes off. Fortunately,
I think, the bomb only kills Al-Assad, who warns Palmer and everyone else in time for them to at least duck. Palmer’s hurt, but I don’t think he’s hurt or dead that bad.

The other storyline is Jack hanging out with Charles Logan, who has grown a beard and is now under house arrest. Instead of a lo-jack, the feds apparently are forcing him to grow facial hair and dress like a lumberjack. He’s basically Al Gore, except without gaining 200 pounds and giving a shit about the environment. Logan has supposedly found Jesus or something and is the only way Jack will ever get information out of the Russian consulate guy, the only guy who knows where Gredenko is. Palmer, who I’m pretty sure could kick anyone’s ass in the show except Jack, is ok with it.


Curiously absent is anyone calling bullshit on Jack’s dad. Couldn’t Dad have called Logan in the first place in an effort to find and kill Gredenko and maybe avoided a fucking nuclear weapon going off in LA? Gosh, also, maybe then you wouldn’t have to kill (or half-ass try to kill) most of your family, right? Dick.

Continuity error: Morris is wearing a Vegas-club shirt that is pretty much the same shirt he was wearing before he got tortured by Fayed. Sensitive to all the crap he was getting for basically handing the terrorists the keys to four nukes, Morris would definitely have kept the shirt on that got drilled through when Fayed drilled a hole in his fucking shoulder blade, so if anyone gave him any shit, he’d just be able to turn around and say all what.

Random C-list celebrity whom Mandy could have slept with and/or killed by now: Jim Breuer, who would have gained another thirty pounds or so.

Have you thought of about five thousand ways Lennox, assuming he's not some kind of idiot, could have foiled this half-baked plot to kill Wayne Palmer? One will suffice. Drop us a line at craftinvegas@gmail.com!